A dear friend got some terribly sad news a few days ago. When she told me, I wanted to be there. To take her out for our favorite pancakes. To sit on her couch and hand her tissues while she cried. To get lost in crossword puzzles together. But I couldn’t. I’m 6,000 miles away. And I felt so very helpless. So I went for a walk to soothe my own heart, in the hopes that I could somehow vicariously soothe hers. I found small surprises hidden behind fences and bursts of brightness in the midst of decay. Even though it was dusk, I felt the sun rising a ribbon at a time. And I hope that soon, very soon, she can feel it, too.

How do you comfort from afar? How do you cope with bad news? When do you feel the sun rising?

This weekend, I will hand over our animals to the friends who have agreed to foster them for the year. Along with food bowls, squeaky toys, and leashes, I’ll leave a sliver of my heart. Are you a pet person? Do you understand?

Were it not for you, we would be living in terrible, terrible places like the pound, the garbage dump, and the frat house. We would not know such delicacies as goldfish, catnip, and olives. We would not get to sleep 20 hours a day on fluffy pillows that smell faintly of cedar and cheese.

Also, there is your patience. We are not perfect. We know this.

When Needy Black Lab eats things like the remote control, you are understandably angry. But also concerned for his digestive health.

When Sweet, Sweet Terrier refuses to come out from under the table during a thunderstorm, you gently and patiently scratch her ears, forgiving her old-dog eccentricities.

When Fat Orange Tabby pees in the just-folded laundry basket, you curse. But not too, too much.

For the empathy and kindness you have shown us, we are so very grateful.

But.

We feel it is time to bring up some concerns. Particularly since our new pack member will soon be here. And we will round out the bottom of the family roster. Again.

1. The new kid’s first poopy diaper? It is not necessary to bring that from the hospital so we can feign interest. He is coming. We know it. We’ve made our peace. Leave the poop, and bring home the mystery meat instead.

2. Though you don’t approve, we enjoy eating grass, mulch, discarded lollipop sticks, and the occasional crayon. We would appreciate a grace period during which these habits might be tolerated as we all work to adjust to our growing family.

3. The decibel level at which children throw tantrums and newborns shriek pains our superior yet delicate ears. (You might have noticed this from our desperate sighs and pleading eyes.) Technology has changed a lot since you last brought a child home. Could you please look into a mute button?

4. Probably, you will receive cards, gifts, and hot meals to celebrate the new arrival. Probably, people will deliver these to the front door. Probably, we will want to bark or hiss at them. Please let us. No matter who’s napping. It makes us feel better.

5. We understand you may be arranging playdates for the older children so that their routine continues relatively unchanged. Might we suggest the same for us? There’s that Golden down the street. The Shar-Pei in the cul-de-sac. And the calico twins on the corner. Just a thought.

Thank you for your prompt attention to our concerns. We look forward to resolving these matters amicably and with ample treats. (From you. To us.) In addition, we look forward to the day all the children leave for college, or the circus, and we might once again sleep on the bed and couch.